


Boots

by FiveExclamations



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Espionage, Gen, Implied past sexual violence against an OC, Implied threat of sexual violence, Other, Resistance, Science Fiction, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveExclamations/pseuds/FiveExclamations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Occupation Kira Nerys goes under cover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boots

**Author's Note:**

> Please check tags for warnings.

**Boots**

In the resistance you tended to wear whatever you could lay your hands on that fit, even if it needed a belt, or a length of rope to keep it on.

In the winter you layered up and you kept your clothes on except for natural functions, even then you exposed the minimum of skin and got your pants up fast. People _smelled._ You got used to it.

When the spring rolled round you shed layers like a Daugu shedding its skin. If you were lucky enough to be near running water you washed, if you weren't then you just carried on smelling until you were.

But with footwear you had to be pickier; a simple blister could turn septic and rot your foot right out from underneath you. In warm weather wet feet bred fungal infections, in cold they froze at night and come the morning you were minus a few toes. When it came to footwear there were three main criteria that made for a good boot:

One, they should be the best fit you could find.

Two, they should be reasonably water tight.

Three, they should be easy to run and fight in.

If this meant stealing them, or taking them off the dead, (be it the Cardassian you just killed, or your best friend the Cardassian just killed, (just before you killed  _him_ )) then you did it.

Of course, there were occasions when you had to go undercover and most cells had a special stash of clothes for that purpose.

Kira was eighteen and a five year veteran of her resistance cell on the one and only occasion Shakaar dressed her in their "female farm worker" ensemble. It consisted of a long skirt of rough sacking type material and a loose top of a similar, but lighter fabric with a drawstring neck. The outfit was accessorised with a pair of flat, woven sandals and a basket for carrying Kava in.

The clothes weren't clean; a woman in clean clothes coming off the fields would look suspicious.

Squaring her shoulders, Kira walked through the field, balancing the heavy basket awkwardly on her hip, nodding to the other men and women walking the same way. They slid their eyes away and down to the ground, pretending they didn't see. Seeing would lead to questions. Seeing could see them dead.

It seemed that every pebble and prickly straw in the field worked its way into her sandals. She tried to ignore them, but finally had to stop to shake them out, bending down to winkle out the worst offenders that wouldn't shake free. While she was down there she noticed the cord on her shirt had come untied; she cursed under her breath, stood up and grabbed the dangling ends, tugging them impatiently.

The cord snapped. The shirt slid down her shoulders and stopped, a few inches short of indecency.

She swore out loud. So much for avoiding attention; she looked like a cheap wine hall woman with her wears half on display. She managed to bunch the fabric together and tied it in an awkward knot. It looked ridiculous, but respectable, and she picked up her basket and carried on.

By the time she made the edge of the field she'd had to stop three times to empty her shoes, her knot had come undone twice and she was crimson red and steaming with temper. She'd forgotten Shakaar's instruction to project subservience; all she wanted to do was get the basket on the transport and get out of there. She handed the basket to a brawny, shirtless Bajoran who was standing with effortless balance on the edges of the baskets that were now stacked three high on the flatbed of the hovering, bulk transporter and turned to walk back through the field.

Unfortunately there was a Cardassian in her way, looking down at her. "I haven't seen you before, who are you?"

Kira looked him straight in the eye, hating that she had to look up to do it. "Nori Alico, what's it to you?"

The Cardassian's brow ridges flew up and the horror of what she'd done drowned her temper. She'd shaken him from the complacent stupor engendered by compliant workers and the uncomplicated routine of harvest, even if he didn't suspect her of anything, he _was_ paying attention.

She dropped her gaze and cringed, as if expecting a blow. If she was  _very_  lucky he'd think she was just a cheeky child woman who hadn't quite learned her place, if she was lucky he'd beat her and put her on the next transport to a labour camp and if she was unlucky they'd check her name first and find out Nori Alico had died at Batal aged four.

Of course, if she was  _very_  unlucky they might get curious about the contents of her Kava basket.

Her shirt saved her, the knot chose that moment to come undone. The Cardassian's eye ridges rose up (even further), as the fabric slid down.

There was a loaded pause. The Bajorans around them kept their heads down and their eyes on their work, but Kira could feel the scritching, hot gaze of the Cardassian soldiers behind her.

"Well Nori Alico," said the one facing her, with a fake kindly smile and equally fake charming tone. "I am Glinn Alket and I am in charge of this harvesting team. I don't permit my workers to go about improperly dressed." He took her courteously by the elbow, as if he was a boy come courting, offering to escort her to Temple. "I have some things that might fit better. Why don't you come along with me and see?"

Kira heard a snigger and glanced over her shoulder, to where the six other  _armed_  Cardassians were watching. They were smirking and Kira was sure, making bets. Would the Bajoran go willingly, or unwillingly? Would she scream and cry or endure in silence? She couldn't fight off seven Cardassians and no doubt the more that would come running at the first sign of trouble.  _And_  she couldn't rely on the farm workers to come to her aid. They were too cowed, too passive. But,  _if_  she went with  _this_  Cardassian, then they might be alone and more to the point away from the transport, and the contents of her basket.

She nodded, tersely, "Alright." She let the Glinn lead her off.

There was a group of buildings off to the east, a high, fenced compound with four, long, low dormitories. Surrounding the compound was another, far better built, structure that contained troop lodgings and separate houses for the officers. The Glinn led her onto the veranda of the largest building, sitting slightly distant from the others, and through the door into a large bright hallway. He kept them moving, straight through an almost luxurious living area and on into a bedroom.

He let go of her elbow and gave her a gentle push between the shoulder blades, "Go stand over there, I'll be with you in a moment."

Kira did as she was told, assessing the room she was in for weapons and avenues of escape and trying not to think too much of the Glinn's intentions. She pushed away the memory of Ferlla Taupin's face the day she'd come back from passing messages in the marketplace and had been waylaid by some drunken Cardassians. Ferlla had gone back to the labour camps not long afterwards, where she had family, cherishing the scars on her face because she thought no one would want her again.

The room Kira was standing in was simple, probably of modular construction. There were no lamps or ornaments that she could use as clubs; the windows were quite high and small and the only exits seemed to be the door she had come through and another in the back wall. This had a keypad beside it, probably an emergency exit.

Through an opening on the other side of the bed she could see a simple, but clean, bath room.

She was just wondering if she could strangle the Cardassian with the bed sheets when the Glinn, who had been securing his hand held weapon into a safe, turned back and looked her up and down. He pursed his lips and gestured towards the bathroom. "Please go and wash, you don't want to make your new clothes dirty straight away." Without waiting to see if she would obey he sat down, at his ease, in a chair by the wall.  

Kira barely hesitated as her life certainly depended on her playing along. She walked steadily into the bathroom, not surprised that the position of his chair allowed him to watch what she did. Once through the door she turned to face him, not from any pretense at coquetry, but so she could see him coming, and pulled off her clothes. Finally, without any fanfare, she kicked off the hated sandals.

The Glinn sighed, as though just the sight of her was satisfying of itself. He nodded towards the shower again and she stepped in, hitting the activator.

The water was plentiful, but too hot and there didn't seem to be any temperature adjustment that she could see. She scrubbed herself quickly all over, aware of his fixed gaze and rinsed off. When she pressed the activator to shut off the water warm air blowers in the shower frame activated and she turned herself back and forth, wanting to be dry, reasoning that if she had to run she didn't want to be wet with her feet slipping on the smooth floor. Finally, when she couldn't put off her exit any further, she stepped out and stood there, refusing to cover herself. She would not make any pretense at modesty, or imply fear of a man she fully intended to kill.

His eyes wandered from her head to her heels and back again. "Come here." He stood as she came towards him and met her halfway; next to a metal chest placed against the wall. "Open it," he nodded at the chest, his eyes not on her face.

The chest was full of clothing, mostly simple, Bajoran women's clothing. She looked up at him confused; did he want her to wear it all? She really didn't want to think about where it had all come from. Would her farm girl clothes be washed and put in the trunk later?

He laughed at her expression, flicking her cheek with one finger, "I told you I would find you some clothes, you Bajorans are so suspicious. Pick something pretty."

She tossed her head, but did as he asked, rummaging until she found a simple, dull purple dress. She stood up and slipped it over her head, pleased that it was loose and shapeless, but puzzled by the long cords that dangled from the waist and made coils on the floor.

"You have to tie them," he said, pointing at the cords.

She looked up at him, baffled, shaking her head, "Tie them where?"

He stepped closer, his face impassive, but his eyes glinting. "Let me show you." He bent down to pick the cords up and gestured for her to raise her arms.

The idea of him touching was like worms on her skin and she thought about attacking him, but couldn't see any way that would help her; he was much bigger and better fed and she had no weapons. "Alright," she fixed her eyes on the far wall while his hands busied themselves with the ties, crossing them once between her breasts before dropping them over her shoulders and wrapping them round her waist twice, tying them in a bow.

He stepped back to survey his handiwork. "Much better, but..." he pressed a finger to his pursed lips, "It needs something else. Look in the bottom of the trunk, there's some purple boots, I think they will fit."

She did as she was asked. The boots were a shade or two darker than the dress, it wasn't an unpleasant colour but the heels made Kira pause, they looked ridiculously high. She'd never worn anything like them and was sure she would fall over. She couldn't see how she could walk, never mind run,  _or_  fight.

"What's the matter?" the Glinn asked, for the first time there was a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Nothing." Kira shook her head and placed the boots on the floor, she tried to slip her foot into one, but wobbled precariously and the boot toppled over.

"Here, let me help you." The Cardassian kneeled and set the boot upright, guiding in her foot and doing the same for the other. He sat back on his heels, surveying the effect. "Yes, that's lovely, you have such slender calves." He reached out a hand and began to run his fingers up the inside of her leg, from the top of the boot, up under her skirt and past her knee. "There's something about you," he said, as if the difference was more amusing than intriguing. "You're not broken." He looked up her, smiling and pinched her thigh hard, under her skirt. "Not yet."

Kira felt the explosion before she heard it; it was like the air had been sucked out of her ears. In the still, fraction of a second that followed Alket jumped up and thanks to the boots she could look him straight in the eye, on his level. Understanding flared between them and she saw that he knew, that he realised what she'd done and why she wasn't "broken".

She wondered if he saw her joy in his fury and emasculation, fearless of her own death. He certainly saw her brace herself to fight because the rushing whump of returning pressure and ear hammering sound came just as his fist was swinging back. 

The whole building rocked on its foundations. The Glinn, caught off balance, windmilled his arms and crashed to the floor. Kira staggered back on her heels but somehow managed to keep her feet. As the floor seemed to come back down to earth she took an awkward step forward, her arms outstretched to save herself and stomped firmly on the Cardassian's fingers, with her full weight on her  _ridiculously_  tall heel.

The Glinn screamed, though Kira couldn't hear it, her ears were full of rushing wind and shrill, clanging bells. Thoughtfully she removed her heel from his hand and kicked him squarely in the teeth, angling her foot on the follow through so that her heel gouged his cheek.

She "heard" the satisfying crunch of his shattering dentition vibrate through her leg bones.

Cardassian armour didn't cover everything; she either kicked or stomped on every available spot, some of them repeatedly, hard and fast until he was a bubbling, bleeding heap on the floor.

The sound of other Cardassians entering the building brought her back to herself. The explosion had knocked out the power and the door at the back of the room was swung wide. She ran outside and around a corner, scaled a fence fueled by adrenalin and triumph and ran back through the Kava fields to where Lupaza was waiting with a stolen hover vehicle, not slowed down in the slightest by the boots. They were away before the remaining Cardassian's ears had stopped ringing.

As soon as she got back to their camp, Kira threw her whole outfit in with the rest of the Shakaar's stash of disguises.

Some time later, word reached them that a number of the wounds Kira had inflicted were permanent. It was said that the Glinn's wife filed for divorce on the grounds of infertility, one of the few valid reasons accepted by the Cardassian courts. Kira found that satisfying and went in search of the boots to mark the occasion, in what way she didn't really understand. She found them at the bottom of the pile with teeth marks in the toes and turned them over in her hands for a while, toying with the idea of putting them on. Finally she put them back, her resistance cell was based in the mountains; sadly, she concluded the heels would get broken.

Years later, just after receiving her posting on Deep Space Nine, she went to collect her Militia uniform and was told that Officers in administrative positions had the option of a heeled boot.

"Are you sure?" asked the Quartermaster frowning, another ex-resistance fighter. "It's just some dumb idea from the high ups to make us look sophisticated to the Federation. I don't think I could wear anything that made it difficult to run, or fight, even if I was going to work on a Space Station."

Kira just laughed, "You'd be amazed what a pair of heels can do for you," she said, and pulled on her new boots straight away.

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered why on Bajor Kira would wear heeled boots as part of her uniform.


End file.
